"Can I deal with her by kicking her ass to the curb?" He sneers.
"I wish, but I wouldn't want her dog to be in the middle of this shit in case there really is something going on with it."
"You got it, man. I'll take care of the dog." Cyrus stands up as I sit down. I run my hands through my hair and tug at the ends, and then take a deep breath. I take several deep breaths, mostly to allow enough time for Cyrus to take Sylvie and her dog into an exam room, before I go grab his next patient, a pet bird.
I called the Sheriff’s department once I had a break in my schedule. Sylvie let it slip to Cyrus that she's taken a rental on the lake for a few days while she enjoys the end of summer before the seasons change, so I gave the sheriff the information Cyrus got during the brief time he spent examining her dog, Coco, determining that nothing was wrong with her. They promised me they would go out to the property and I sat on the edge of my seat for what felt like forever before I received a call back.
She wasn't there.
They would have to try back later.
15
HER
Royce sent me a message he was working late and was having a crap day. He told me he wouldn't be great company and thought I would be better staying home to avoid his shit mood.
I ignored him and let myself into his house anyway, so when he did come home, I could be there for him.
I know we said we love each other, and we've practically been living together lately, but right now I feel that being supportive is what’s needed. That's what is done when you are in a relationship. An individual don't necessarily lose one self in one another, but you help every characteristic of the relationship blossom and become dependable to tackle the tough times as a team rather than independently.
I started to fall for him without even knowing that I had. And even though we've known one another for only three months, I can say for certain that nothing compares to the way that I feel for Royce.
Standing at the stove in his kitchen stirring the homemade pasta sauce, I hear Royce slam the front door. He drops his keys on the counter and jumps when he sees me on the other side of the counter.
His hand clutches his shirt over his heart and his breathing speeds up. "Shit. I didn't know you were here," he says. “I didn’t even notice your car out front.”
"I can tell.” I smirk. “Dinner will be ready soon. Go change," I tell him with a soft smile.
"I thought you were staying home tonight?" he asks as he strides into the kitchen, circles my waist with his strong arms and kisses the top of my shoulder.
"You told me to, but I didn't listen."
"Thank you for not listening to me. I can't tell you how nice it is just to see you right now." He kisses my cheek.
"I should plan on not listening to you more often; see what I can get away with." I laugh lightly.
He pinches my side and chuckles. "Don't test me. I'll be right back." He disappears upstairs and returns wearing shorts and a shirt a moment later.
"Do you want to talk about your day?" I ask him over my shoulder.
"Do we have to?" he asks, peering into the fridge and grabbing himself a beer.
"Give me the short version?" I throw at him.
"Sylvie's staying in town for a few days. Cops went to where she's staying, but she magically wasn't there."
"Yuck. The end of summer party is in two days. Does that mean she's here during that?" I ask.
"I have no idea. She brought her dog into the clinic today, but I swapped with Cyrus. I'm thinking of getting a restraining order." he admits.
"Willie told me she came to the house looking for me, probably on the same day she busted your windows."
"Allegedly. My lawyer is trying to get me to say allegedly — innocent until proven guilty and all that — even though I have no doubt she was behind the incident," he says, clearly exhausted.
"Just remember, I love you and I’ve got your back. But now, go set up the patio table outside while I strain our noodles," I instruct.
He salutes me with the beer in his hand and grabs what he needs.
I put the spaghetti in a covered dish and carry it downstairs. I place it in the middle of the table, then return upstairs to grab the basket of bread and my wine glass.
When I return, Royce has plated our dinner and is sitting patiently.
"I know it's not much, but when I'm in a shitty mood, spaghetti makes me feel better," I explain. "And buttered bread." I hold the basket out to him with a smile.
He smiles and spins a forkful of noodles, then shoves it into his mouth. He moans as he chews and gives me a thumbs up. Once he's swallowed his bite, he wipes his mouth. "This is amazing."
"Thanks. It's my grandma's sauce recipe. Lots of herbs and maybe some wine," I say before taking a sip of my glass.
"Oh, that reminds me. I have something for you." He reaches into his pocket and hands me one of his folded notes.
Smiling, I reach for it and tuck the note under my plate. I’m enjoying this little game he's created, but it's killing me not to have his whole message. When we get the end of his little notes, I hope I don't turn into a blubbering fool.
We eat in silence, enjoying the summer evening and the sound of crickets surrounding us. I can sense Royce’s bad mood evaporating and, in place of it, his usual charm and levity emerges. Once our plates are empty, he grabs my hand and takes me closer to the lake’s edge along his property. The sky is mostly dark now but the patio light provides us with enough light to see one another. The ripples on the lake’s surface reflect the light and the distant lights from the homes across the way.
We dance to unknown music until Royce starts to hum. We are cheek to cheek as he slowly turns us around. He twirls me out then brings me back to him and smiles.
"Thank you," he whispers into my ear. "Thank you for not listening, for being here when I needed you. I can't imagine any other way I would want my day to end than with you in my arms."
HIM
I wake up to my phone ringing. Not exactly the best way to wake up, but nonetheless something that I cannot ignore. I remove Emma gently from my chest and sit up. The phone stops ringing and immediately begins again. I pick it up and answer in a whisper so I don’t wake my sleeping beauty.
As I dress to head downstairs and attend to whoever is calling, I hear dispatch telling me to hold for the sheriff. I anticipate some good news since they're calling me in the middle of the night. A moment later, the call is connected and the Sheriff is coughing in my ear and then apologizing.
"Sorry to call you so late, sir, but we wanted to make sure we update you as soon as we had any further information on your case," a raspy voice tells me from the other end of the line.
"Okay." I swallow. "So, what's happening?"
"How well do you know Sylvie Callaway?" he asks.
"Well, we were married up until about four years ago. What does this have to do with the vandalism to my home?"
"Well, we found no one in the home that was reported to us as her rental earlier this afternoon."
"Then why am I being called?" I'm so confused.
"There was a car parked on the side of the road close to your house this evening, a silver convertible. We didn’t locate anyone in the vicinity; however, through the windows of the vehicle, it was notated that there was photographic evidence of invasion of privacy of you and your girlfriend were visible on the backseat."
“Probable cause?” I ask.
“There was evidence of paperwork with your name as well as several items strewn about with times marking your whereabouts.”
"And the photographs of me and Em?" I ask through my teeth.
"They were intimate photos, sir."
"Intimate photos?" I repeat as my stomach drops.
"Correct. At what would appear to be your home. Has anyone aside from you and your girlfriend been in your home?" he asks.
"Friends, but I trust them." I look up to the ceiling and run my hand over my face.
"If you ca
n think of anyone else who may have had access, please let me know. We will have a squad car drive by your house. We also have someone with an eye on the rental just in case someone shows up. Watch your six. It would appear there's something fishy going on here. The photos are evidence, but you are more than welcome to come to the station and check them out. Since we had the vehicle towed being parked illegally and out of the road, we had probable cause to enter the vehicle"
"Yes, sir," I reply as we hang up.
I rack my brain trying to think of who else has been in the home and come up empty. Everyone I’ve invited here has been trustworthy. I've never had any service people tend to the home or anyone else in the house I didn't know. I gave the sheriff the current owner’s name, but other than that – I was stuck on who else could have had access to my home.
I grip the back of my neck and take a deep breath. My mind spins, trying to come up with any idea of who the hell could have helped Sylvie and why.
"Everything okay?" Emma pads into the kitchen where I'm standing leaning against the counter.
"I'm not sure," I confess. "They found what sounds like Sylvie's car parked on the side of the road nearby. No one was in it, but there were photos of you and me in the back seat."
"I'm sorry, what?" She gasps, her hand covering her mouth.
"Yeah. I'm not sure what's really going on. I'm processing still."
She looks around the room, high and low. "I don't see any cameras."
"Whoever put them in the house, has them hidden. I'm going to look at the images. Maybe the positioning could tell me where the cameras are hidden based on the angles."
She nods her head and steps closer to me. She wraps her arms around my waist and leans her head against my bare chest. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
"No," I say firmly. My hands on her hips push her away so I can look her in the eye. "I'm sorry. It's because of me that there are personal photos of you and me that more than one person has likely seen by now. I'm sorry that being with me has brought this drama into your life. And I'm sorry that because of me, you and Willie lost some business, although I'm not entirely sure it would have been beneficial to you."
"None of this is your fault," she reassures me, her eyes locked on mine. "You can't control someone else's crazy."
I smile at her. "I want to make that into a bumper sticker."
"Come on, let's get back to bed." She grabs my hand and pulls me to the stairs.
"None of that sexy-time antics until we find the cameras. The only person I want seeing you naked is me," I say, trying to not sound too controlling, but still making it clear to her that I mean it. I don't want her to think I'm okay with any of this. This makes me just as uncomfortable as I assume she is.
I trail behind her and we fall into bed together.
"You sure you don't want to give this person a show?" she playfully asks.
"I'm sure. C'mon, let's get back to sleep. I want to get to the station early before I have clinic hours."
"Argh. Why must you be so logical in the middle of the night?" she whines.
"Well, babe. I think I would start with the moment I found out there are photos out there of me and my girlfriend fucking," I say, rolling onto her. Wrapping my arms around her middle, I pull her against me. She wiggles her ass against my cock and he perks up. I have to mentally “down boy” him to squash the desire running through me.
"You know, you could fuck me like this and since its photos, it will just look like we're sleeping."
Hmmm. She does have a point there.
16
HER
Well, I can knock taking inappropriate pictures off my “don't do” bucket list. To be fair though, I didn't take them, and I was completely unaware until I woke up to an empty bed and found Royce downstairs, frustrated by the latest development.
I wasn't expecting him to tell me someone had placed a hidden camera in his bedroom or anywhere in his home, and I also wasn't expecting to be slightly turned on by the thought of it. It's not that I want his ex or anyone to see me naked, to get off on the photos or whatever the hell she's doing, I just felt the situation warranted some exhibition tendencies that I wasn’t aware that I had.
I've read about sex clubs and about the sensation someone would have of being watched having sex in romance novels, seen them in movies and in porn, but I didn’t think I would like it.
But I did.
I really did.
And that's why I suggested that Royce take me as soon as we got back to the room.
Royce wants me to come with him to the station, but I need to get to the store early to do some paperwork. I hate this part of the job, but business accounting and management is my strong suit, not Willie’s. She’s not good with spreadsheets and numbers, so she leaves that stuff to me.
For three hours prior to opening, I studied receipt after receipt, making sure our numbers add up and our inventory matched what was in the computer system.
A strange noise from the front of the otherwise silent store jolts me out of my spreadsheet zone. I poke my head out of the back office and see nothing. The interior lights aren’t on, since the shop’s still closed, but there’s enough light coming in from outside and I still see no movement inside the store. As I walk out of the office and look around, I peer around the middle aisles and note movement outside the front of the store.
That’s when I see red. In more ways than one.
The front windows have red writing all over them. When I get closer to the front windows, I notice it's the letter “A” painted repeatedly covering half of the windows. The person who drew them must have noticed me and left the scene hastily. A paintbrush and the paint bucket sit on the ground beside my front door.
Why the hell? What the fuck?
I pull my phone from my back pocket and immediately dial the sheriff’s office. After they tell me they'll send someone down as soon as possible, I dial Royce. When he doesn't answer, I leave a message, and then follow up with a text. After ten minutes, Royce calls me back. Once I tell him what happened, he says he’s going to finish up with his current patient and come to the shop. Even though I try to talk him out of coming to the shop, I’m not surprised when he still shows up.
I'm on the phone with Willie when he storms through the open front door.
"Where's the sheriff?" he asks before he sees the phone in my hand and my hand flies up. I wrap up the call, take a deep breath and then give Royce my full attention.
"They're on their way; at least, that's what I was told before I called you," I tell Royce.
"They should fucking be here. This is vandalism!" he says angrily. "More fucking vandalism?"
Right on cue, a deputy walks in the store, while another stands out front observing the paint. I went to high school with this one — Riley Winchester. We used to date in high school, but it never became anything serious. Whenever we saw one another around town, I was always glad to talk to him, but he always brought up high school and tried going back down memory lane. I haven't had too many interactions with him since our paths don't cross a lot, but when they do, I veer right.
"Do you know of anyone who would do this kind of thing, Em?" he asks as he leans his hip on the counter facing me and ignoring Royce's presence.
"I know exactly who it is," Royce interjects, bringing Riley's eyes to him. Riley looks him over from head to toe and then looks back at me.
He hitches his thumb toward Royce. "He with you?"
"Yes. And yes, we know who did this. Or at least who is behind it," I reply nodding my head.
Riley pulls out his notepad from his shirt pocket, clicks his pen and is poised to take down whatever information that we give him.
"My ex-wife is staying in a rental across the lake," Royce says. "She’s already caused problems for us."
"How so?" Riley asks.
"There's already an open case of vandalism that occurred the other night at my place. The sheriff’s department called me last night about it, and I was at the
station earlier this morning. My ex doesn’t seem to like the fact that Emma and I are together."
"If you two are divorced, why would she care if you have a new girlfriend? How long have you been divorced?" Riley asks.
"About four and a half years," Royce begins. "I honestly don’t have an answer to that. I don’t know why she’s so involved in my life, other than that I think she’s still not over our relationship. I had some vandalism at my place too, and I believe that it was her. That's the current open case. I can’t recall the other deputy’s name who came out to my house, but all the information should be at the station."
"Is there any proof?" Riley asks, turning his body to Royce and giving him his full attention.
"A camera was placed without my knowledge in my bedroom taking intimate photos of Emma and myself. The photos from said camera were also found in a nearby car, belonging to my ex if the description is correct. I would think that’s enough proof she's up to no good."
"And she hasn't been picked up yet?" Riley asks.
"She's managed to stay out of sight. At least, she hasn’t been back to the house she is supposedly renting."
"And you are sure she’s in town? Aren’t you from the city?"
"I’m not sure. I was told that she wasn’t at the home she rented whenever someone went looking for her. Not sure why that means anything to what's going on here." Royce nods, his voice slightly irritated.
Riley writes something down, looks up at both of us and then writes some more.
"And your name again?" Riley asks in a dismissive tone.
"Royce Colton"
"And you two are dating?" He points his pen at each of us.
"We are," I reply nodding.
Riley continues to write and then clicks his pen and puts it back in the front pocket of his shirt.
"Well, I think I've got what I need. I'll speak with the sheriff about your open vandalism case. We'll try to link the cases together if it's possible."
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